Terrorist
by marrion.nette
Summary: When both Harry and Draco accepted something they don't fully grasp, they end up in the same place. They realised that the Rise of Voldemort is more dangerous than both of them ever anticipated. slash.
1. Prologue

Every Saturday, without fail, Harry would sit outside at the porch, with whatever little possessions that he had in a drawstring bag. And he would wait.

He was waiting for his father. His father would get him on one of these Saturdays.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia told him it was no use. They laughed and taunted him, saying that his parents were dead. Died in a car crash. He did not believe them at first, wishing desperately that his parents were on some dangerous assignment instead, and were bound to pick him up someday. He even believed that if they were dead, they would come back as angels (as he fervently believed that they were good people) and let him live in heaven with them, where magic and fairies existed.

However, with the jeers and bullying, exacerbated by Dudley and his gang's favourite pastime, Harry Hunting, these Saturdays would also be an absolute nightmare.

It was hope that kept Harry going.

Very soon, Harry turned five. His aunt started giving him household chores to do. It took up all his Saturdays. However, he would still get his bag ready, in case his father really came.

When he turned seven, he gave up waiting. Something inside him died right then. But sometimes, just sometimes, he dreamt of someone coming to get him. Just a tiny flicker of hope.

OoOoOo 

The next day, Harry left. He couldn't bear to board the Hogwarts Express once more. It took too much time. He couldn't bear the long journey. He didn't say goodbye to anyone, not even Ginny.

He did the impossible. He apparated out of Hogwarts.

This was his own journey. No one else would interfere with him.

Dumbledore wanted him to go back to the Dursleys. Harry was sure he had his reasons. Dumbledore was a scheming and manipulative old bastard, but Harry respected him. He was fond of him even. Now that Dumbledore died, he felt it was his personal duty to fulfill Dumbledore's wishes.

He rang the doorbell thrice. He was lucky that no one saw him apparate. Aunt Petunia opened the door. She wasn't very surprised although the frown was in place.

"Learned to apparate, haven't you?" she said scathingly.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Not offering more information, he went in as she stood aside.

"Dumbledore died." He didn't know why he said it. He just did.

"The old headmaster? The one reputed to be the most powerful wizard that ever lived?" Aunt Petunia's voice was tinged with worry, and what was it? Fear?

"Yes. The very same man who sent you the Howler. He...he died."

Aunt Petunia seemed to be at a loss as to what to say. She finally nodded.

OoOoOo 

He could feel the magic of the house. Perhaps it was Dumbledore's magic channeled here after his death. Perhaps it was his more acute senses. He didn't know.

The magic acknowledged him, recognizing him. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it. It acknowledged him bond with someone of the same blood as him.

"So mote it be." His aunt intoned. She presented him with a thick parcel and a vial.

"This will be your last time here. You would never again return to Privet Drive. Drink the potion. And don't ask so many questions. The answers are in the parcel. Come down after you're done and cook dinner." She said it in such a way that he was left with no room to argue and left before the shock could wear off.

He knew his aunt wouldn't poison him, no matter how she hated him. Labeled at the bottom of the vial was the name B. R. Greene. He supposed it was the brewer of the potion. With one big gulp, he drowned it.

He felt a kind of cleansing. All the potions, spells, charms cast on him seem to wear off. The sleeping draught that he consumed so that he could get some kind of sleep seemed to have dissipated. He felt awake, too awake, and knew that sleep would be hard to get. At once, he knew that Hermione had cast a calming charm on him. It didn't make much of a difference. He wasn't jittery.

Then he felt the greatest betrayal. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't will himself to. He felt a kind of detachment.

OoOoOo 

He went up to his room, enlarged his trunk, not bothering to unpack. He opened the parcel. It contained much more things that the parcel's normal size would allow. Then again, he lived in a magical world.

He wondered how many more shocks he would receive that day. Then an owl swooped from the open window. The grilles were still in place. Harry could only take his letter before the owl had to fly off again. It gave him a displeased hoot, having no water and no owl treats after traveling for so far.

The letter read:

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_You have been selected as a member of the Guild. All will be made clear to you if you accept. Deep condolences for the death of Dumbledore. Take the portkey to headquarters at midnight. _

_Guild._

There wasn't even a name, just a note. It disappeared once he finished reading it.

Was there anything else to lose? He thought bitterly. The wizarding world would happily celebrate once he managed to destroy Voldemort. Till then, all there was for him was jeers and disbelief that he could actually do it.

_It was time._ He felt it more than he heard it. The second chapter of his life has ended. There was no time to lose.

_Great! _He thought. _I am putting my lives on the hands of strangers._

Looking around at his bare room, his eyes landed on the drawstring bag that he had packed again and again when he was young. The last time he did it was ten years ago. It seemed fitting that he took it with him.

The price of innocence. It was gone now.

_Goodbye, Aunt Petunia_. He silently thought as he went down to cook dinner magically. _I disliked you since young. I still do. But thanks anyway, for in the midst of making my life miserable, at least your family taught me that life is really a bed of roses, albeit with too many thorns.  
_

He heard Uncle Vernon and Dudley reach the front door, talking about school and seemingly unimportant details. He heard Aunt Petunia tell them that "the boy's back". Uncle Vernon grunted a reply.

Once again, he packed his belongings as he did ten year ago. He had more possessions now. He shrunk them and took the portkey, a small circlet with nothing in the middle.

The next morning, when Uncle Vernon banged on his door to make him clean his car, he was gone.

OoOoOo 


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Draco Malfoy was in deep, hot soup and he knew it. Sev might have saved him the horrid task, might have done the deed. But Voldemort's wrath wasn't something that he wanted to bear. His father was dead. His mother was with Bellatrix. That woman drove him crazy. She drove his mum crazy too.

Snape entered his dingy hiding hole, this miserable muggle house and longed for his manor. Soon, he thought. He saw Draco already awake. Ever since the disastrous event, Draco was a nervous wreck. He knew the Malfoys. Steel outside. The more steely they are, the more of a wreck they are inside.

Draco immediately made a bee-line for his Godfather, asking, "How's mother?" His anxiety was apparent from the wildness of his eyes.

"She is worried for you. Other than that, she is fine. She is a resourceful woman. She'd survive."

He wanted to be close to his mum. Smell her wonderful smell, not from perfume but natural smell of her. Of wind, and the beautiful meadows. That beautiful face, smiling tenderly when they are alone. She spoiled him, he knew.

_So much was at risk here_.

"Sev, I got a letter." He told his Godfather.

His Godfather raised an eyebrow. _Draco assumed too much._

"The Guild." He offered.

Of course he would, Snape felt a burst of pride at the boy he called his Godson, whom he tutored and taught. It was Initiation Day tonight. Many years ago, it was the same day that he received the letter.

Tonight was also the day of initiation for Voldemort's Death Eaters. Representatives from all the countries would come and they would take the Dark Mark. The Second Reich has started. Draco and himself would undoubtedly be required to attend.

He was finished with the Order. He knew. It was too great a secret to let loose. No doubt Potter would be after his blood right now. The boy was pathetic.

Dumbledore. It's over. He tried to convince himself, but that feeling of guilt won't go away. _If you couldn't forgive yourself, when you retire, find a nice quiet shrine in the mountain and be a monk. Meditation would do you good. _Brendan once said. He thought he was sardonic. Brendan was even more.

He snapped out of his reverie. "Go Draco. And never regret your decision." He then smirked. "Your mother is in the Guild."

Draco was surprised but he didn't show it. His knowledge of the Guild was limited. Only what Snape told him before once. "There are organisations even mightier than the Order of Phoenix." When he pressed for more information, all Snape did was to take out a small circlet with the Snape family crest on it. It was never mentioned again although he kept the name inside his head.

"I will make your excuse." The Dark Mark began to burn. Lord Voldemort wanted to see him. And he will.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Harry stared distastefully at the portkey. The object was nice enough. But the tug at the navel wasn't.

Others materialized in front of him at the same time. Some were taller, some were shorter. They are all of different colours. Black, white, beige and even green.

He could recognize that face even from a distance. Angel-face. Devil's mind.

Draco Malfoy. Of all the English people to be chosen, why him?

Before he had time to wonder what this was all about, a platform materialized right smack in the middle of the circle. The wizard standing on it was old and bent, yet the staff he holds and the wisdom that the beard somehow lends him radiates power. He was wearing simple brown robes, a direct contrast to Dumbledore's flamboyant and outrageously coloured and patterned mismatched clothing. Unlike Dumbledore's twinkling eyes, this old man's eyes were hard, as if the twinkle had been weathered by everything that he had went through.

Harry wasn't sure what to expect. He disliked this man immediately. There was nothing, no proof or reason, just instinctive dislike.

"Welcome to the Guild." The old man's hollow voice intoned. The voice was one of someone grieving. He didn't know what to expect next.

"The Guild is an International Organization, aimed at receiving talented wizards and witches to destroy disturbance and balance the powers in this world. The most recent one, as all of you would probably know to different extents, the rise of Voldemort."

The mention of the name chilled Harry. But knowing that this organization will help his cause made him glad. He hadn't walked into a Death Eater's trap then.

The old man continued. "You will need to take an oath. Anyone who decides to back out right now will be allowed. After the oath, you will introduce yourself and we will make our policies known to you. By then, there would be no turning back. It's either membership or death." The threat chilled Harry. He could see many undecided faces.

There was nothing to lose. _Was there?_

"I take it that all of you have decided to stay?" The old man questioned authoritatively, as if already knowing the answer. "Very good. Take out your portkey." Harry took a glance at his.

"Raise your palm and hold the portkey." Harry didn't know how it would stay on his hand at the same time while it's open. But it did.

"Now make an oath. You needn't speak it out. Speak it in your heart."

_I would give everything for Voldemort to be destroyed. If that be the organization's aim, then I am with you._ Harry thought.

All the circlets of the witches and wizards shone as they flew to the centre. It glowed brighter and brighter, and connected, becoming one huge globe of light. Harry looked on with fascination.

_Magic. Seven years and I'm still not used to it._

The got back his circlet. This time, it wasn't an empty circlet anymore. There was an acorn in the middle, with two stalks of wheat framing it. He wondered what it meant, wondering if others had the same insignia or different.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Potter. Of course, the Saint Potter. Boy-Who-Lived-to-Make-His-Life-Miserable. Easy torment target. He smirked.

So this is the Guild. He eyed the other wizards and witches. None that he knew of other than Potter of course. After all, these are wizards and witches from various countries. Some don't even look like wizards and witches at all.

When his circlet came back, he was satisfied to see that it was the Malfoy crest. Snape's was the Snape crest after all. Why should his be any different?

"Keep it close with you. It has many uses." The old man did not elaborate.

He was suddenly reminded of Dumbledore. How close. He nearly did it. He did not want to think about it. He did not feel any better even though Snape told him that Dumbledore and himself had worked it out long ago.

_I would never take the path of Voldemort. _

The old man let them admire their circlet for a while before continuing with his speech.

"My name is Aberforth and I am the Master of the Guild. Follow me. I will lead you to your rooms, where you will reside for tonight. There will be dinner at the Commons' Hall and you will get to know one another. Harsh times as this, friendships must be forged and allies made."

Then he added as an afterthought, "we are in the Pacific region. It's six in the evening. Please readjust your watches."

Draco walked with the others, following the old man. They walked through the seemingly endless maze. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew they were underground. They passed through rooms and what he suspected was catacombs though he dismissed it as his necrophobia, one reason why joining Voldemort's cause didn't appeal to him at all. The very same reason he could not kill Dumbledore or any other person for that matter.

_I'll kill a person when the time comes and it is needed_. He promised himself. He knew in theory that if you do not kill someone, he or she will probably kill you. But practice is always harder than theory. He learnt that from reading the spells and trying them once he attained his wand.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

_Aberforth_. He heard that name before. It wasn't a common name. He was sure that the person he ever heard mentioned before was the very same person.

He was lost in his thoughts as they made their way through the maze and towards his bedroom, where he longed for a hot shower. Even though there were many people, no one was talking. They were awed by this cavern-like structure, with the occasional statues that guarded the corners. These statues aren't all humans either. Some of them were knights, some were house-elves, some were other magical creatures that looked half-human, and many others that he couldn't even begin to describe.

It was the same kind of feeling when he walked into Hogwarts for the first time, when he first saw the magical candles floating and enchanted ceiling. The first time he saw Albus Dumbledore, the first time he got sorted. Yet it was different. In Hogwarts, the magic was clearly visible. Here, the magic was subtler. It was felt more than seen, as if the whole cave is alive and there is a presence that keeps the torches along the cave wall alight. There was also an antiquity to the cave, as if it has seen too many people walk past its halls and survived through too many wars.

Harry was startled by his musings. Walking through the cave gave him another perspective towards magic. Perhaps magic was not blinding flashes of light and smelly potions. It was much more than that. Was it why Hogwarts magic was so visible? To allow the muggle children some sort of proof that magic existed? Eleven year olds might be total skeptics, especially if they lived in a muggle family where imagination is a crime.

Harry was walking directly behind the old man now. The old man suddenly turned and looked at him piercingly, as if he knew of Harry's newfound knowledge. He halted then, and the whole group halted with him.

"To my left is the boys rooms while to the left is the girls room. Make yourself comfortable and come down punctually at seven..." The old man went on about some unimportant details that Harry didn't bother to listen to.

-flashback-

"Hagrid, look what I've got for relatives!" Harry said furiously. "Look at the Dursleys!"

"An excellent point," said Professor Dumbledore. "My own brother, **_Aberforth_**, was prosecuted for practising inappropriate charms on a goat..."

-fin-

Harry was rooted to the spot as the others made their way to their bedroom.

The Master looked at Harry questioningly, knowing that another realization has hit the boy. He waited for Harry to speak. Aberforth was a man of few words, a direct contrast to his meddlesome and seemingly fond of his incessantly animated voice brother.

"You are..." Harry could not bring himself to say the word Dumbledore. Even though both of them are Dumbledores, he knew that the only Dumbledore that we will regard as the true Dumbledore is the cheerful and merry Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"I'm sorry." He said instead.

"So the old fool mentioned me before it seems." The Master said.

Harry didn't know how to respond to the "old fool". Dumbledore was definitely not an old fool. He was a great man...

The Master was silent for a while. He continued when he was Harry wasn't about to speak. "He was too self-sacrificing for his own good. Stubborn as a mule, never would budge. Just like a Dumbledore."

Harry was blinded with rage. Later on, he would decide that it was childish of him to feel like that. So Aberforth knew that the Headmaster was sacrificing his life in an attempt to find the fake Horcrux and leaving the castle. Why then hadn't he tried to prevent it, do something?

His expression mustn't have been guarded as The Master continued, cutting him off before he started.

"Albus might have died for his own fault or perhaps he had his reason. I wouldn't know. You must understand Potter, that we are old men, not young wizards and witches who can be easily told what to do. He made a noble sacrifice, though we might find it foolish at first. Make it worthwhile."

With that he turned away, leaving a stunned Harry Potter in his wake. Aberforth Dumbledore might not be world's friendliest nor kindliest person, but he was certainly as smart and as understanding of human character as his brother.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

The room was dimly lit, but it was comfortable. There were fresh sheets and Draco was content. He was a rather fussy person really. He minded the state of his bedroom very much. He approved of the space. Enough to be spacious, not too big such that it looked empty.

He suddenly felt very lucky that he didn't take the Dark Mark. He was glad that he could atone for his mistake and redeem himself. Most importantly, he wanted to see his mother. He knew the Guild must be a very secretive organization for even his well-informed father did not what it was or where it is. The Order of the Phoenix was very visible and every Death Eater in the magical world of Britain would know of it. Also, its members were mostly riff-raff. On the other hand, there were few who entered the Guild and mostly people he didn't know. The selection process must have been rigorous.

His thoughts went back to his Godfather. He prayed fervently that he was fine. Of course he would be, Draco thought bitterly. He managed to kill the most powerful wizard reputed to be in existence. Voldemort would be pleased. His mother, on the other hand, would get into a lot of trouble.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Dinner was a pleasant affair. Harry got to know a few of his Guild Mates. There was Arnie, an American wizard who was so good natured that Harry thought he would never lose his temper. No one can talk to him and keep a straight face.

There's Ezra, from the Hawaiian Island, who was very chocolate. Whether he was naturally born like that Harry would never know. However, Harry suspected that much of the tan came from the surf.

There's Lan from Vietnam, whom Arnie didn't seem very comfortable with, on account that their countries were at war with each other. However, Arnie's good-humour and Lan's playful banter soon kept them in an argumentative conversation.

There's Fion from Norway, who is so fair that he would have thought her to be albino, had she not have cream-coloured hair.

There's Bonnie, a gypsy who said that she did not have a wand and thought it useless. To prove her point, she made steam come out of Harry's ear. Although he felt nothing, he couldn't help but get slightly offended by her treatment.

Then there's Yuffie from Japan, who has dark hair and black eyes albeit very fair skin that she might have been a vampire save for he beautiful face and lithe figure. Harry didn't know why but he always associated vampire as ugly creatures. Like Snape.

There's a very quiet boy called Kylie. When Harry asked where he was form, he merely replied, "everywhere." Harry promptly changed the subject.

Then there were some others that he soon forgot their names. He ate with the group and they talked about trivial things, like family, Quidditch Honestly! Who could like the Tonadoes? They are absolute rubbish... and even muggle things I wish there was electricity here... Some discussed about family. "As I was saying, Uncle Dave always said it was prudent to know your runes...". Harry wasn't ashamed of his family. However, he wasn't keen on discussing them either.

He turned his head into another conversation and realized they were discussing jokes. It was a neutral topic that he knew well. Dinner was a pleasant affair. Everyone was a friend regardless of their nationality, race or species. There was no mention of war or Voldemort. There was no association of him and the boy-who-lived. He was glad.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Draco eyed Harry Potter. As usual, Harry Potter is surrounded with friends. He wasn't sure if he was jealous. Maybe he was.

"Hello there, what's your name?" Coming towards him was a creature too beautiful to be human. He had sharp accented features and long white hair. His voice was quiet yet resonant. Draco spun round surpirsed.

"Draco. Draco Malfoy." Draco knew that here, being a Malfoy didn't mean a thing to anyone.

Well, perhaps it meant something to Potter. Meant that he was going to throttle him sometimes soon.

"I am Pan." When he caught Draco ogling at him, he offered an explanation.

"I am not human. I am an Earth Sprite. The Earth is my home. I roam free in these caves."

Draco, fearing that his ogling might be rude and signify that he thought himself superior, said, "I am not totally human either. I am partly Veela and partly Elvish."

He didn't know why he was so accepting of his heritage so suddenly. He might not believe in the superiority of purity of blood since his second year but somehow he also never acknowledged the fact that he was only partly human.

Pan replied, "No, you're not totally human. But you have adapted their ways. You live in a manor and go to your castle school. Us on the other hand, we rely on the Earth and we learn from the Earth and the fields. We used to roam free on the surface. But humans drove us out."

He was saved from responding when a short bouncy girl bounced her way through them and asked in a not-so-polite fashion, "Who said his name was Peter Pan?"

Pan looked amusedly at her. He seemed very patient for his age, Draco thought. Then he said graciously, "why, you can call me Peter if you like."

"Oh, I am Jack. And before you ask, it's not Jacklyn or Jacintha. Its just Jack." This girl is certainly a tomboy. His father would never have approved of such a friend, Draco thought, but of course, his father wasn't here.

"Pleased to meet you Jack." Pan replied politely.

"Same here." Draco replied indifferently. He didn't like her at all for her rudeness and her uncouthness. These kind people are better off with Potter. Only he hangs around with riff-raffs.

"Now young man. You absolutely have no manners at all. You treat me indifferently, didn't even extend a hand in courtesy and refused to acknowledge my presence. Pity you have such an angelic face. Didn't your mother teach you that you have to be a nice gentleman and introduce yourself when you meet a stranger?" Jack demanded at once.

He wanted to laugh. Talk about not having manners. However, when she mentioned his mother, he was angry. His dislike for her grew even more intense. Who was she to talk about his mother that way? No one talk about his mother that way without punishment at all.

"How dare you?" Malfoys never raise their voice. It just showed how un-Malfoyish he was when he did so.

"Why wouldn't I?" Jack retorted just as hotly.

He made a lunge for her but she was too quick for him. She managed to appear behind him and pull his ears. How dare she! No one pulls a Malfoy's ear and get away unscathed. He tried to grab her again. She told him in that awful voice of her just what she would do to him if she was his mother. He couldn't stand it anymore. He was very very angry. Many people knew that Malfoys are proud, but they did not know that a Malfoy's wrath is worse than Voldemorts when provoked.

He managed to get her collar the third time, while she shrieked "Let me off, you ponce, you darling boy, you mummy's pet, you..." The insults continued.

By then, many people had gathered to watch the little episode. Some were giggling, some looked scandalized. But no one stopped them. They were enjoying the scene immensely.

Harry Potter stood at the other side of the room. Drawn by the commotion, he turned around to look. The situation was immensely funny. Draco Malfoy being mortally insulted by a girl. A very short girl. He couldn't resist a laugh.

Draco heard the laugh and he got madder. He badly wanted to hit Jack, or Jo, or whatever her name was. He also knew that if he let go, he would never have a chance. She would slip away. Jack saw that her words weren't enough to keep Draco from releasing her, started raining blows on his head. She seemed to have hit the right spot for he released her instantly. However, the savage little girl didn't stop hitting him, at the same time because of running out of insults, repeated her mantra of, "you monster!" again and again.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Harry looked at the pained expression on Malfoys's face. He knew that blow must have hurt. He lived with Dudley after all. At this rate, it won't take long before he was unconscious. Malfoy flailed his arms wildly, trying to grab her hair but failed, his eyes having been punched and probably seeing stars. By then, some were moving forward, trying to separate the two. It was no use, Jack kicked them away.

Harry's got enough. Verbal taunting was not harmful, entertaining even. God knows that Malfoy needed to be taken down a peg or two. Physical damage was not to be tolerated.

"That's enough!" Harry voice rang through the crowd. All eyes were on him now. It was probably the last thing Malfoy heard before becoming unconscious. He stepped forward with all the dignity that he could muster which he thought wasn't much, and advanced towards the centre of the circle that had formed.

Jack ignored him at first, continuing to punch Draco even though he was already unconscious. However, when he advanced, she stopped. Suddenly aware of her surroundings, she looked up. No one moved a muscle, interested to see how the whole thing would go.

"Hello, my name is Harry Potter. Much as I enjoy the insulting scene, I do not, I repeat, do not appreciate having a dead Guild mate." Harry said pleasantly enough, albeit with a hint of steel.

"The boy-who-lived?" Her eyes grew round. There was a collective gasp around the room. Many had not associated **Harry** with the boy-who-lived. His surname had.

With a wail, she ran out of the Commons Hall, sobbing. Harry felt no pity for her.

He ignored the rest and knelt beside Malfoy. Bruised head, bruised shoulders, torn robes and probably bruised stomach, if that girl actually managed to get there. He laughed silently at the irony of it. He wouldn't be doing this in normal situation.

Being a frequent visitor in the Hospital Wing does have its uses, Harry thought. He knew the simple healing spells that Madam Pomfrey had used one too many times on him. Sometimes, he could even heal himself already.

_Go to hell Malfoy_. Then he took out his wand and whispered the spell. No more bruise could be seen although he didn't wake up.

"Here, I'll help you carry him." A dark skinned boy, probably of African origin came forward. Being the generous American, Arnie stepped forward too. Between the three of them, with the rest of the crowd watching and following behind, they carried Draco to his room.

There was no applause, no open praises. Many were embarrassed by their own silence.

There was only respect and admiration. Not for the boy-who-lived, but for Harry Potter, a worthy and noble person.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

The Master looked on of course. _How right you are Albus. Pity you aren't here. You would have told me, **I told you so**._

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Can anyone here be kind and teach me how to format my document? I just can't seem to do so.


End file.
